


How to survive a wizard’s duel at Hogwarts

by LesleyJean97



Series: Only the luckiest could survive all seven years at Hogwarts [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter, Chocolate Frog Cards, FC Bayern München, Fluff and Humor, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, M/M, One Shot, Prequel, Thomats friendship, Wizard's Duels (Harry Potter), at least I tried to, chocolate addict, frenemies Mats&Lewy, no one is in his right mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:34:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28750776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesleyJean97/pseuds/LesleyJean97
Summary: Manuel was dragged by his roommate Lewy, who went into a wizard's duel with the renowed Slytherin badass Mats Hummels, to the trophy room in the still of the night to serve his role as a faithful second, only to find himself reunited with Thomas, whom he had met a year ago on the Hogwarts Express. And we both know wherever Thomas was, things went wild.prequel to 'How to survive your sixth grade at Hogwarts'
Relationships: Manuel Neuer&Robert Lewandowski, Mats Hummels & Thomas Müller, Mats Hummels&Robert Lewandowski, Thomas Müller & Manuel Neuer, Thomas Müller/Manuel Neuer
Series: Only the luckiest could survive all seven years at Hogwarts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107746
Kudos: 1





	How to survive a wizard’s duel at Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't seen the match last night and when I woke up to the news of Bayern being knocked out I was like... going totally frozen and reread it twice to make sure that I hadn't got anything muddled. But to be honest, we all know things like this could happen one day or another. The schedule is crammed; the players are tired and overstretched and what makes this even worse is that we don't have able substitute players thanks to Brazzo... ：(

‘So, you and this Mats Hum, um–’

‘Hummels. The name is Mats Hummels. You gotta remember the name of thy enemy and see to it that the name will be forever deeply etched in your head. So deeply as it was when a lion dug its teeth into the bones of its prey in case it fled–’

Robert stopped short in mid-sentence when Manuel raised a hand to beckon him to call it quits.

‘Okay, cut it out. I know what you mean.’ Manuel hastened to say, lest his roommate broke into another eruption of indignation and started banging on about how annoying this Mats Hummels bloke was for the seventh time this night.

To put it plainly, ever since Robert came back from the training ground he was a bit not in his right mind. Clearly someone had really got on his nerve. He kept rocking his feet to and fro against the leg of the four-poster for a heck of a long time, each with horrendously great might as though he had taken it as an imagery enemy. Manuel didn’t pump him for what had happened during the training at first, for he was sure that when the time came Robert would confide it to him. And he was proven right.

‘I’m going to duel against Mats Hummels tonight. A wizard’s duel. At 12 o’clock sharp, in the trophy room.’ He said.

And that was what he had said. For the rest of the day he said nothing more than some grumbles about how nasty this Hummels was and in the end the upshot was that by the end of the day Manuel still knew little about this lad, except that he was really irritating and well, he was going to have a wizard’s duel against his roommate.

Midnight was ticking nearer. Yet they had wasted too much time for nothing. For this reason Manuel decided that from now on he would do the asking and all Robert had to do was simply giving his answer.

‘Alright, now hear me out. You and this Mats Hummels are gonna challenge each other in a wizard’s duel. That’s what you all agreed, is that so?’

‘Yeah. And he–’

‘Hang on.’ Manuel cut him off before he had the chance to raise another complaint against Hummels, ‘You gotta first tell me who the heck is this guy?’

‘He’s a rotten Quidditch player. The substitute keeper for the Slytherin Quidditch team–’

 _Slytherin._ Manuel felt his stomach did a backflip. Of course there was Slytherin behind this. He should see it coming. Otherwise what else could fill Robert with such downright rage? 

The tradition was that at Hogwarts every Gryffindor student ought to pair themselves with a foe from the house of Slytherin and nag each other in the years to come. It was built in the era of the four founders, officially established on the day when Salazar left the school for good, and observed by generations after generations. It was a good thing that Robert had already found a life-long enemy when he was yet to live through his second year at Hogwarts. However, when it came to himself, Manuel could only say that he hadn’t really thought about this yet.

‘–A nasty, big-headed blighter…’ The beefing was still going on by the time Manuel poked his head out from the pool of thoughts. ‘Big-headed.’ He heard Robert hiss, ‘Both metaphorically and literally. I mean, his head is really big–’

‘Okay, okay. But how come you land yourself in a wizard’s duel with this big-headed blighter?’ persisted Manuel.

Robert scratched his chin in a thoughtful air, ‘Well, we were training this morning. Everything was fine, until the Slytherins came. They said that they had booked the training ground for a tryout. And we kinda had a go at them and it ended up being a clash.’

‘But I haven’t heard of anyone else involved in a wizard’s duel.’

‘Because they were soon dismissed by Madam Hooch.’ said Robert, pursing his lips, ‘We were left behind – me and Hummels. We were not involved in the fight, actually. But I guessed he must be bitter about not able to show off himself in front of his teammates. That surly face!’ snapped him, ‘I asked him if he wanted to fight me. He said yes. But we already arrived the entrance hall at that time, and McGonagall was around, meaning we couldn’t fight on the spot. So we agreed on a wizard’s duel at midnight.’

Manuel blinked several times after hearing everything out. For some inexplicable reasons he suddenly labored under the illusion that Salazar had put a hex on whoever sorted into Gryffindor to provoke them to fight the Slytherin whom they first had their eyes on. Maybe this was what he cursed this castle with, not the Chamber of Secrets.

‘–whoever loses the combat shall drench himself with the mucus of slugs from head to toe.’ Robert continued, ‘And Manuel, I told him you’ll come as my second.’

Manuel heaved a sigh. He preferred a sound sleep in their dormitory, cocooned in the covers, not charging around with a wand in the trophy room at the dead of the night. He inwardly told himself he was gonna regret this. But then, it wouldn’t gonna hurt, anyway. Wizard’s duel, namely using their wands as sticks to hit each other on the shoulders, more likely.

‘Alright then.’ He nodded affirmatively, ‘I will be your second. And who’s Hummels’ second?’

‘Some bloke called Thomas Müller.’ Robert wrinkled his nose to grimace, ‘Never heard of–’

Robert was still blabbering. But to Manuel his voice had long faded away ever since the name ‘Thomas Müller’ came into topic. He knew this name. Or put it more precisely, he remembered this name.

‘It’s him!’ he yelled spontaneously. Robert broke off abruptly in the wake of his sudden outburst.

‘You know him?’ he cocked an eyebrow inquisitively.

‘Um, not exactly. Long story though. We were in the same compartment on the Hogwarts Express on our first day to the school.’

‘So how good is he at combat?’

‘Dunno. He’s a Muggle-born. I doubt if he knows how to combat in a wizard’s fashion.’ Manuel mumbled, stroking a strand of bristled hair absentmindedly, ‘But he might use feint.’ He added when something suddenly flashed through his mind.

‘Feint?’ parroted Robert, ‘You mean, like Wronski Feint?’

‘No. It’s nowhere near that. You gotta use chocolate.’ Manuel explained, faking a toss, ‘Throw it as far away as you could to distract people–’

‘Okay, now I get it. So basically he knows nothing about a wizard’s duel.’ Robert concluded, ‘Great. That will be to our advantage.’

‘Sounds like it.’ returned Manuel flatly, clearly not sharing the same positively good mood.

But Robert didn’t take any notice of this. He was too giddy, too preoccupied with the great duel yet to come that all his senses was shut down to the world, as he bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet light-heartedly in rhythm to a light tune which none but himself could hear.

‘What time is it?’ he blurted the second the tune concluded; the swaying also came to a halt.

Manuel flicked a quick glimpse at the clock on the nightstand, ‘Nine o’clock sharp.’

Robert let out a cry of horror, ‘What? It’s already nine o’clock?!’

‘Relax. There’s still a hell of a century to midnight.’

‘No, no. You don’t understand. There are only three hours left. Three hours left to practice.’ He enunciated. Flustered, he rushed to where his trunk was lay open and, almost diving his whole upper body into the contents, started rummaging through books and clothes and at last he found his fir wand under a scroll of blotted parchment. He pointed it high at the ceiling as if carrying a torch. ‘Come on, polish your weapon.’ said him in an authoritative tone, ‘Draw out your wand and fight me.’

Sighing heavily, Manuel rolled out of bed and picked up his cedar wand as he was told. Balancing himself on the carpeted ground, he directed the tip of his wand at somewhere between Robert’s brows, while mentally whining that his roommate had got himself into too many fights.

‘Now pay attention!’ Robert shouted, gripping harder on his wand, ‘On my command – 3…2…’

A chorus of ‘Expelliarmus’ pealed out and echoed within the four walls. Two wands soared high into air simultaneously while the sounds of the incantations were yet to fade. They whirled elegantly and hit each other in mid-air, causing a shower of sparks.

 _Such a breathtaking sight,_ thought Manuel, admiring it in awe.

The clock chimed eleven, meaning there was only one hour to midnight. However, in the room deep hidden under the lake, all was flurry.

‘I still don’t get it. Why didn’t you just decline his challenge?’ asked Thomas, for the hundredth time this night.

‘I was going to, had I not seen that surly face.’ Mats snorted, his nostrils flaring dangerously, ‘We were walking. And all of a sudden he started sizing me up with that dark look. These pesky Gryffindors!’ he spat resentfully, giving the checked carpet a mighty stomp, ‘They just couldn’t allow you a second of peace!’

Looking at Mats’ hunched back, Thomas shook his head sympathetically. His roommate was going to fight a wizard’s duel tonight – Mats announced it the instant he strode over the threshold. Even with his limited history knowledge, Thomas could well say that a duel, especially in the Middle Ages, was always connected with death. The duelers often ended dead or badly-injured. See what Pushkin got for himself – duel, infected and gone for good. The thought of Pushkin gave Thomas shivers. He hated this. He didn’t want his friend dead. Let alone Mats was basically his only friend at Hogwarts.

‘Can’t you cancel the duel?’ he murmured in a tremulous voice.

‘I can. But I won’t.’ said Mats unseeingly. He was using his wand as a sword to practice strike, ‘On no account will I bow down to a nasty Gryffindor.’ He added.

‘But this sounds too dangerous. Duels, I mean, people often got killed in the duels.’

‘Relax. No one’s gonna get himself killed.’

‘But–’

‘Think about all the spells we’ve learned by far. None of them is capable of killing, right?’

‘No, it’s not like that. You can kill people with a levitation charm so long as you want. Think about it, Lewy levitates a huge trophy, in all likelihood–’

‘It’s Lewandowski! The name is Robert Lewandowski. You gotta remember the name of your roommate’s enemy–’ Mats chimed in angrily.

‘–it flew towards you and hung on top of your head.’ Thomas continued, undisturbed, ‘Suddenly, and unexpectedly also, cause you are off guard, the spell is removed, and – clunk!’ he gave the table an almighty thump, ‘You are as good as dead.’

At this Mats heaved a sigh of resignation, ‘Don’t fuss. No one’s gonna die.’ He asserted in a firm tone. However his voice became softer when he caught a glimpse of the expression on Thomas’ face, where incredulity was chasing anxiety. ‘To tell you the truth, those born in wizard families grew up with dueling against their peers. For us it’s more like a way of sorting out problems. I once dueled against five kids in one week, and I was only four years old then.’

‘Oh, that sounds better.’ said Thomas, feeling his muscles slackening while his face relaxed a trifle, ‘Still, I’ll pray for you until you come back safe and sound.’

Bewilderment spread across Mats’ face. ‘What are you talking about?’ he quirked his eyebrows, ‘You are going with me.’

His last five words came as a downright shock to Thomas. So unprepared was him that he felt like being struck by a bolt of lightning. ‘I’m going along?’ he yelped, right when several mermaids drifted past the window, who, out of curiosity, poked their heads out against the glass to eavesdrop. But Thomas could care less whether he should drop the volume or not. ‘For what? To help cover the body?’

Mats rolled his eyes, ‘You are my second. And as my second, you’ve got to come along. It’s the rule.’

Petrified, for a heck of a long time Thomas just stood staring at him, as though anticipating that what he had heard was merely a joke and that Mats would retract it back anytime. But what he had been waiting for didn’t come, and the way Mats was eyeing him told him there was no room for manoeuvre.

‘Alright then.’ Thomas caved in, ‘I’ll go with you.’

In answer to his remark Mats blew a whistle of triumph. Bright-eyed and pleased, he came up to give Thomas a gentle pat on the shoulder before plunging himself back into practice. _But mere practice was not enough_ , said Thomas to himself as he, thoughtfully, watched Mats practice lunging and parrying with his red oak wand. If they wanted to best their opponents, they gotta outthink them. 

‘What are you looking for?’ Mats shouted from the other end of the room, darting an inquisitive look at Thomas, who, turning his back at him, almost tore his trunk apart in search for God knows what. Curiosity inflamed, he tossed his wand away and sidled from behind to see Thomas scoop a chunky book from the bottom of his trunk. ‘ _Adventures of Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle_?’ murmured him, gaping at the title of the book lay beside his feet, ‘ _Quidditch through the Ages_? What are these for?’

‘Well, I’m thinking… maybe we should bring something with us, as a back-up plan, in case things get tricky. They might come as useful.’

‘By saying ‘something’ you mean books like _Enchantment in Baking_ and _Hogwarts, A History_?’

‘Both are chunky books. Chunky–’ Thomas repeated, while he struggled to pull another fat book out from under a heap of creased clothes before putting it on a precariously balanced pile of books, ‘–meaning dense with knowledge. My math teacher once said knowledge could kill. And that means, the more knowledge it contains, the greater it’ll be of use to us.’

Mats scratched the back of his neck and averted his gaze elsewhere to give himself a pause to ponder on Thomas’ remark before his eyes fell back on the pile of books, poring over the elaborate cursive scribbled on the cover of _Important Modern Magical Discoveries._

‘Makes sense.’ said him at length. ‘But we can’t bring all these books along.’

‘How many pages do they have?’

‘498 for _Important Modern Magical Discoveries._ _Enchantment in Baking_ and _Quidditch through the Ages,_ 364 and 513 respectively–’

‘It’s not enough.’ Thomas chipped in.

‘Then maybe this one could do, _Hogwarts, A History_ , it has 1012 pages. Oh, wait – there’s one with 1016 pages.’ Mats exclaimed in exhilaration, ‘It’s a Rune dictionary.’

‘Take the dictionary.’ said Thomas decisively, ‘Now we are good to go.’

It took longer than they had anticipated to extinguish the fire. Sparks, actually, cascading down in a torrent. The hearth rug was set aflame the instant the sparks kissed it and before they could even blink, almost half of the rug was eaten up by the fire. Soon the whole room was thick with pungent smoke.

That was what the flames summoned by magic could do. With hindsight, Manuel thought it was lucky that there was no wind at that time, for all they could summon was a thin jet of water and clearly it was no match for a fire fanned by wind blowing in gusts. In the end, the fire only cost a hearth rug. But it had almost cost them everything to stop the catastrophe, namely the precious time for practice, as Robert had specifically pointed out. Disheveled and worn-out, and reeking of smoke, they hurried to the trophy room.

The clock already chimed midnight when they were still a long way from their destination. Robert gasped in horror at the echoing peal of bell. Manuel knew the very reason why he did so – they were late for the duel. And for this they would disgrace themselves.

Galloping at full speed, they made it there in record time and charged into the trophy room like an arrow darting straight at its target. Losing no time to get the wind back, they braced themselves for being taunted but once they looked up, only to find they were faced with a black void.

‘He tricked me! That sneak!’ Robert hissed under his breath, ‘He must be lying on the bed sneering at my stupidity, he–’

He stopped short at the scratchy footsteps outside the room. Vigilantly, he dragged Manuel back to the shadows with his wand at the ready. The door creaked open. A tall figure sneaked in, closely followed by a lanky one. The one, whose face couldn’t be more familiar to Manuel. So preoccupied, yet so unlike him. Manuel wondered what plagued him. 

‘You are late.’ Robert drawled in a supercilious fashion, strutting pompously into the moonlight.

‘I wasn’t going to. But my second–’ Mats raised his chin in Thomas’ direction, ‘–forgot his wand and we had to go back for it. Otherwise it’s not a fair fight, is it?’ said him in a challenging air. Manuel noticed that he didn’t lower his chin after all this time but kept staring down at his opponent with his flaring nostrils, haughtily and condescending. One look was enough to decide if he, in all probability, wanted to make acquaintance with this guy and Manuel’s answer was no and never, and in no way would he involve into any business concerning this guy, a Slytherin, another word for a nuisance.

‘You wait there.’ Robert pointed at the far corner of the room, ‘Be on your watch and move on my command.’ said him in an authoritative voice, acting high and mighty. Mats did exactly the same, dismissing his second with a wave of his hand. Manuel saw the lanky boy walk away obediently, joining him sitting huddled in the corner.

‘It’s not dangerous, right?’ said Thomas out of the blue, appeared lost in thought as he intently regarded the protagonists of the duel, who were yet to lunge into fight. It looked as though they were posing for photography, to find a better position so that they could open up the show with a spectacular start. ‘I mean, these duels. You see, all the duels I’ve heard of–’ Manuel listened to his blabbering with great patience, ‘those written in the books, they are all fatal–’

Manuel could barely stifle a chuckle. _So this was what troubled him._ The trivialities. Though it was totally understandable. As a Muggle-born, he didn’t know how to make of the tradition within the wizarding communities. It was as natural and understandable as he, Manuel, born and raised in a wizarding family, had no idea how to use a plug. 

Glimpsing a fleeting trace of worry lingering momentarily on his face, tentatively, Manuel mustered up as much consolation in his voice as he could and said, ‘Duels between wizards of our age were more like shouting and spitting at each other so–’

‘But why do they all need a second?’ Thomas interjected.

Manuel scratched his hair in a contemplative manner. Truthfully speaking, he had never thought about this, cause why bother stewing over something taken for granted? However, when you were queried, ‘never thought about it’ didn’t come as a nice reply, especially when you found the eyes, sparkly and craving for answers, were looking straight at you.

‘Personally I think that’s another way of saying they need a witness.’ said Manuel uncertainly after a thoughtful moment, ‘Something like that… another word for a, um–’

‘Audience?’ completed Thomas.

Manuel shrugged, ‘Yeah. That’s the word I’m looking for.’

‘Wow. So it’s like… we are on the set of a Western?’ he exclaimed. The glitters of exhilaration in his eyes were palpably visible.

‘I guess you could say that…’ Manuel echoed. Although he had no idea what a Western was.

‘Cool.’ said Thomas briskly. He sat a bit more upright and slightly leaned forward, legs crossed and shoulders hunched to prepare himself with a more comfortable position for the upcoming duel.

It was reaching flashpoint, seeing that both duelers, after simultaneously taking two steps back to keep a discreet and proper distance, were ready to take in the big breath. To inhale and to taste the air of peace and serenity up to the hilt one last time before it was stirred. Before it was fully suffused with the stench of explosive clash.

Eyes flicking between the two duelers, Manuel felt his breath became rasping. Even though he was so used to it and had witnessed numerous wizard’s duels throughout these twelve years of living, he found it hard to refrain from the shaft of apprehension, eager to be let out, at the point when both were ready to make their first attack. Every time he watched them lunge into fight with sweaty palms and inflamed bottom lip bearing clear teeth marks which even went unnoticed by he himself. Empirically, people might need two to five minutes to collect themselves while the duel slowly transited from a tumult of tentative, surprise attacks to a fight in which both sides threw their incantations back and forth at a rhythmic groove.

That was what things were normally like. In the past, at least. But not this time. Things were steered off the regular course ever since Thomas produced an elaborately-wrapped slab and asked, ‘Wanna have some chocolate?’

Manuel jerked his head in his direction with a start, ‘have some choc – what?’

‘Chocolate.’ Thomas repeated, rocking it under his nose. 'Actually popcorn might be better, but I don't have it there so... let's go with chocolate then.'

In the obscure shimmers of moonlight Manuel read the spidery writing printed in gold on the smooth wrapping paper – Hershey. He guessed it must be Muggle-produced, cause he had never seen anything remotely alike in Diagon Alley.

Despite being a Muggle product, Manuel gotta say it looked beguiling, with all those intriguing pitches and exquisitely-designed patterns combined in a beautiful layout. Yet it was still dwarfed by that alluring smile, a toothy grin and smiling eyes, which Manuel was looking straight into. You would surely know he was smiling even if you covered his mouth tight cause his sparkly eyes were brimming with mirth. The smile alike was often seen when people’s appetite was fulfilled, when they were given what they had been craving for all along. But he, this jovial Slytherin boy, quite the opposite, was sharing. He was the giver. And he was simply elated and proud to be one.

And Manuel was ready to take it, in spite of all those nasty tussles and the long-standing enmity between the two houses, plus his instinctive mistrust to whoever from Slytherin. Strangely he didn’t consider him as a rival from Slytherin or a potential life-long enemy, not when he held out his hand and generously shared chocolate with him. He saw him as who he simply was, as an intriguing boy with copious whims and thoughts brewed in his head every second, and the inventor of the most ingenious Quidditch feint, probably.

‘I’d like to have some.’

The smile broadened. Thomas broke half of the slab for him. Manuel cautiously put it into his mouth, and instead of crunching and devouring it in mere seconds, he allowed it to be held between his teeth. Slowly he felt the hard solid slab melted into thick and sticky sweet liquid in his mouth.

‘It tastes great.’ Manuel licked the crumbs off from his lips, after swallowing the last bit. ‘I haven’t tried any Muggle-produced chocolate before. And now it seems that it truly is a pity.’

‘Definitely.’ murmured Thomas in hearty agreement, ‘Maybe you want some more?’ prompted him, producing a handful of chocolate bars, ‘I’ve got many.’

With a radiant smile Manuel took one in the middle. While unwrapping it, out of curiosity Manuel asked, ‘Are these prepared for the feint?’

Thomas stopped short, incredulity spreading across his face. ‘How do you know about my ingenious feint?’

‘You once said–’

But the two duelers happened to jump into fight at this precise moment and their almighty roars cut him off before he could finish his words. Fascinated by the duel, Thomas no longer persisted him for an answer. Craning his neck far enough to get a better view, he regarded them with rapt attention, his eyes following them across the whole room, wherever they went, whether into the dusty shadows behind the trophy showcase or into the beams of silver moonlight. So immersed was him that he forgot that he still had one end of the chocolate bar in his mouth, and it fell off and almost dropped to the ground when he tried to talk, had he not had quick reflexes.

‘Come on, Mats!’ he shouted vehemently, wielding the chocolate bar, ‘Don’t be disheartened. I’m still rooting for you.’

‘Rooting for me?’ Mats repeated in a shrilly mocking voice, ‘Of course you should be rooting for me! You are my second. Otherwise it’s treachery!’ he shrieked hysterically, panted heavily as he chased after Robert, who disarmed him in no less than twenty seconds after they lunged into fight and used a levitation charm to send his red oak wand into the air, high above heads, where no one could reach.

‘Don’t worry. My loyalty lies on your side.’ Thomas shouted back, before sinking back to prop himself lazily against the wall and continuing crunching on his chocolate bar. ‘I had foreseen this.’ said him abruptly in a muffled voice, with his mouth full, ‘I told him Lewy might use levitation charm, but he wouldn’t budge–’

‘Lewy?’ Manuel interrupted, puckered his forehead. Although he just thought it funny. In the next second he found his eyes met the one in which astonishment took up the whole stage.

‘You don’t call him this way?’

‘We call him Rob, mostly.’ said Manuel, biting a lump of chocolate off. ‘But Lewy?’ he darted a quick glance at the tall figure lurking behind the trophy showcase, wrinkled his nose and shook his head, ‘We never call him that.’

‘I thought that was a good name.’ Thomas pouted. Disgruntled, he devoured the chocolate bar in two mouthfuls as though he decided to take his temper out on it. Manuel’s eyes followed his to stare into the dark, where none was visible. They lost sight of the two duelers, yet they could still hear them, from the short snigger from Robert and the heavy thump from Mats. Solid and almighty, one at a time. Indicating that he was jumping, endeavoring to get hold of his floating wand.

‘They won’t hear us, will they?’ asked Thomas, clearly found it hard to remain poise anymore after a mighty bang, which rendered the whole room shake like mad. He leaned closer to Manuel so that he could make himself heard even if he kept his voice down and at this close range Manuel could see the freckles on his face. ‘I mean, the teachers. And Mrs. Norris.’ Thomas later added, seeing that Manuel still made no move. Nonetheless it was unnecessary.

Swallowing while flicking his eyes up at the two duelers at the far corner of the room as though calling for help, Manuel let out a jittery laugh, and peeped, in a high-pitched voice so unfamiliar to himself, ‘What? You fear that Mrs. Norris might bust in and bite someone on the butt?’ he tittered, his heart in his throat when the Slytherin boy’s hot breath broke on his face. ‘No way. The door’s enchanted.’

On hearing his answer, Thomas’ eyes radiated appreciation, ‘You did it?’

Manuel nodded, with a bit of difficulty though. He could already feel his back coated with a film of sweat due to a flush of unspeakable nervousness. And that feeling deepened when Thomas crowed ‘That’s brilliant!’ with gleaming eyes.

‘I learned it from a lad in the Quidditch team.’ Manuel explained, ‘Oliver. He plays seeker. He told me that he performs this charm every time they discuss tactics, to avoid being eavesdropped by those blighters from Sly – um… some of them.’ He hedged, halted just in time before that word escaped his lips. But Thomas didn’t pay close attention. Once more he started rummaging through his pockets, which seemed to be fathomless for all it could hold, and fished out a stack of packaged snacks. Manuel recognized them instantly.

‘I’ve got some chocolate frogs.’ He said, and this time, without asking for Manuel’s thoughts, he thrust a plum-painted package into his hands in one quick movement.

Staring thoughtfully at the chocolate frog on his palm, Manuel didn’t have the intention to actually put it into his mouth. Or rather, he wished not to hasten to do it. His eyes alighted on the boy sitting at his immediate left, roved around his face and at last dwelled on his eyes. The eyes looking intently at the two shadows tangled up into a scuffle. Clear green but silvered by a glow of moonlight.

 _It fits._ That glassy green conjured up these two simple words. He irresistibly thought of the moss green filled in the emblem of Slytherin and was amazed at how they made a perfect match. Those mischievously-glistening eyes and Slytherin. The boy himself and Slytherin.

Manuel was indeed appalled when the sorting hat crowed ‘Slytherin’ two minutes after it was put on Thomas’ head. He wondered why he was sorted into Slytherin, cause he simply didn’t look like one. Maybe the boy also had some doubt himself, as far as Manuel could see. He was seldom seen with his fellow Slytherin mates except for this so called big-headed Hummels. He was alien to them and for once or twice Manuel saw him bring up the rear alone in the train of a knot of chirping and chortling Slytherins on the way to the classroom. He felt like walking to him and pulling him into a hug or speaking something soothing in his ear, cause that was what he once did when Manuel was downhearted. He was on the verge to do so, nearly, but always retreated at the last second. Because he found it hard to bring himself to. There was always an unsettled hard feeling in his stomach every time he saw that Slytherin emblem, the fly in the ointment, shining proudly on his robe. It wouldn’t budge and would remain the same so long as he still had it sewn to his heart. The emblem would always prick his eyes. _Slytherin,_ he asked himself, _and why is that?_

But now it seemed that _maybe the sorting hat had its very reasons_ , conceded Manuel, as he peered at those eyes, thinking how it fitted the colors. Although he was 100% sure that by no means would this be a reason of sorting but he couldn’t help thinking this way. A way that was brand new and illuminating, and brought out a shiver one might feel when he opened the window for the first spring breeze after a long winter.

 _And he indeed smelled like a spring breeze_ , thought Manuel, taking in a big breath, from which he smelled the fragrance of dewy grass, tasted warmth and vitality.

His heart gave a violent lurch when he woke up from his restless thoughts and realized that the eyes he had been musing about were now gazing into him, almost in a studying manner. His lips were moving rapidly, but Manuel could hear nothing but the buzz. He tried to concentrate, swallowed twice and leaned closer to him. With all the droning and buzzing around him it felt like trying to tune in to the wavelength – you could hear no more than some disturbing noises until you found the right one.

Humming continued, with some bellows interfering from afar as Robert and Mats threw incantations at each other. Upset but not downhearted, Manuel kept trying undaunted and in a split second the voices chimed in. Abrupt and deafening, cause he was almost shouting at him.

‘What have you got there?’

‘Got what?’

Thomas’ gaze dropped on the package on his hands. It was lay untouched. ‘Oh.’ His face took on dawning comprehension, but it was soon replaced by eagerness as he urgently called to him, ‘Go on, unwrap it.’

Flustered and fumbling, Manuel ripped the wrapping paper off to reveal a chestnut frog lying prone at the bottom, along with a card cut out in pentagon, where dwelled a man, hefty and thuggish-looking. Manuel squinted at the guy greeting him with a stiff, lopsided grin.

‘It’s Mad-eye!’ he let out a yell of excitement, ‘What have you got?’

‘Morgana.’ said Thomas briefly, casting a longing look at the one-eyed wizard rocking slightly in the card, whose magical eye was roving vigilantly around, ‘Can I exchange it with you?’ he peeped in a timid voice, ‘I’ve already got 300 cards or so but I haven’t got a single one with Mad-eye in it…’

Manuel regarded that bulky guy, his eyes tracing from his bushy hair to his prominent chin, pausing for a second on his cane and ending up on his calloused, fisted hands, as though to mutely say his goodbye.

‘I’m okay with it if you want to keep it yourself…’ he heard Thomas plow on, ‘I’ve got mountains of chocolate frogs here. Maybe we will find another Mad-eye among them–’

‘You can have it.’ Manuel cut him off, ‘I’ve already got a Mad-eye so… it’s of no use to me.’ His voice trailed off. With one last wistful look he handed the card to Thomas. The latter gave out a scream of exhilaration, a real one, from the deep of his throat.

‘Merlin’s beard, could you please shut the fuck up?’ at the racket Mats snarled, right when he chanced to dodge a jet of water spurting out from the tip of Robert’s fir wand. ‘We are in the middle of a duel. But you keep distracting me from the very start of this fight.’ He paused to take a breath and darted a deprecating look at his second, after Robert accidentally dropped his wand and was now in the unflagging toil to trace it in the pitch-black. ‘Are you truly my second? Or are you in fact my doom, but costumed and disguised as my second?’

‘Maybe the other way round. I’m your second, but disguised as your doom.’ Thomas yelled, but without looking at him for he busied himself dealing out the remaining chocolate frogs. He then forced a tumble of packages into Manuel’s arms. ‘Alright, let’s unwrap the rest of them.’ said him briskly with a handclap, ‘If we were lucky, we might ferret out a second Mad-eye.’

Manuel’s childish face lit up with eager anticipation at this probability. ‘Let’s do it.’ He chirped, embarked on exploring what was hidden under the elaborately-designed wrapping paper, elated at the prospect of finding something truly fascinating, knowing that there was a good chance of bringing it to fruition. But what was unknown to him was that Mats, out at the far corner of the room, was eyeing them jealously.

‘They are feasting on chocolate frogs.’ said the big head boy bluntly all of a sudden.

Robert, who was crawling around on all fours, fumbling for his wand, came to an abrupt halt and his head shot up in a flash, in a way as watchful and prepared as a hound, to flick a curious glance at the shadows tangled up in a huddle.

‘You mean they are feasting their eyes on what is laid hidden under the chocolate frogs.’ Robert amended. Mats shrugged, neither approving nor disapproving. ‘The card is the real treasure.’ Robert added, licking his lips longingly.

As though by tacit agreement, they exchanged a knowing look and after that Mats dropped his wand, discreetly stowed it inside his pocket, ready to make for the packages piled up in a mountain in two strides but hardly had he moved when a grumble pulled him back.

‘Give me some light here.’ grunted Robert in a low, incoherent whisper, ‘I’m certain that my wand is somewhere around but–’ he snorted, ‘–I just can’t get my hands on it.’

Rolling his eyes, Mats fished out his wand and swiveled around, breathing a hushed ‘Lumos’. In the dazzling light produced from the tip of the red oak wand, Robert traced his own wand back in no more than two seconds. Together they hurried across the room and slumped down opposite their seconds.

Manuel gave each of them a thoroughly appraising look, ‘I thought you were going to throw yourselves into a mortal fight until there was only one man left standing, and now what? You decide to call a truce?’

‘We’ve got something more important to do.’ said Robert solemnly, scooping several packages out from the heap at Manuel’s feet and tossing one to Mats, who lost no time in unpacking it.

Truthfully speaking, Manuel thought it a bit of odd, as four of them sat facing each other, all focusing on his own task at hand, without sharing a single word. It felt like some sort of party which was only held for those nerds and freaks, where no one was allowed to talk. This eerie quietness sent a shaft of disorientation to his every limb which he had rarely experienced before. His fingers weren’t in a right state, moved clumsily like a ramshackle pendulum living in an old grandfather clock which had long fallen into disrepair when he tried to tear the package open. _Is this because of drowsiness? Or the air is the real culprit?_ Manuel racked his brain, endeavored to come up with a plausible reason and he was halfway through when there was a cheerful scream interjecting his train of thoughts out of the blue.

‘A second Mad-eye!’ Thomas shrilled, beaming in elation, as a dazzling grin was in full bloom on his face. Manuel gotta admit that his attention was momentarily snatched away by that smile even though Mad-eye was silently ranting in his face.

Intoxicated as though hexed as he was, Manuel didn’t completely sweep Mad-eye out of his mind. This was Mad-eye, after all, whose card he hadn’t seen for once since he started collecting them. So the instant he cooled down, he hastened to ask, ‘Can I have it?’

‘Sure.’ said Thomas good-naturedly, freely handing the card to him. Manuel took the card happily and after studying it with an appreciative look, carefully pocketed it.

The heap of chocolate frogs was soon down to the last few. But clearly not everyone was rewarded with what he hoped for after all this unflagging, prolonged digging.

‘Another Harry Potter–’ wheezed Mats, slinging the card on the wooden floor, where it joined the other cards into some sort of scattered tumble, ‘–I’ve already got seven Potters. I just wish for a Weasley. Whichever Weasley will do.’ Sighing, he leaned over to Robert for a clearer view of what was held in his hand, ‘What’s yours?’

‘Mine is Sirius Black.’ said Robert frankly, ‘Manuel’s got a Fred Weasley. You can do an exchange.’

His voice had barely trailed off when those dark eyes, which reminded Manuel of pet dogs begging for food, shot up at him. The big head Slytherin was looking greedily at him, smacking his lips with an expectant face.

‘Exchange?’ he simply asked.

Manuel said nothing. He passed the card to him, took his instead and tucked it into the pocket by way of exchange, while mentally reminded himself that not two hours ago he just swore that in no way would he involve himself in any business as long as this guy was involved. _Business, huh. Can’t be more ironic._

Unnoticed by them all, the room brightened a bit as the moonlight, spreading across the wooden floor, extended and licked further accordingly when the moon, from where it was bred, skidded several yards westwards. A shaft of light found its way back to this dusty corner, to those clear green eyes it favored, painting them in gentle strokes, which in Manuel’s view was pretty much like a signal, a clap for his attention. A waking-up call to a flush of yearning. Manuel allowed it to guide his eyes, roving around as freely as a tourist sauntered in the cobweb of alleys in the heart of Rome on a carefree Saturday afternoon, without the pressure of pursuing for an actual destination. It was about exploring. Fulfilling his curiosity. And a reason for not regretting coming here at the dead of the night at the sacrifice of a sound sleep.

 _Such a breathtaking sight,_ thought Manuel, admiring the colors, when clear green met glassy, pale silver.

Those colors attracted his eyes, and held them in an enigmatic way, like a magnet. At first it was only a furtive, fleeting glance. As if by accident. Later it became more reckless. A bold move, namely a long-time staring. The connection between them, like that of between a drunk and vintage port, was too strong to break apart. His eyes were fixed on them, dwelling on them intently, feverishly… Greedily. Until Robert’s voice called them back. He hastened to jerk them away, lowered his head under the pretence of poring over the figure waving at him through the tiny window on the chocolate frog card. Meanwhile he heard Robert ask, ‘What’s that on your laps?’

Curious, Manuel swiveled around to find out that there was a fat book lain on the Slytherin boy’s crossed legs. Strange. How come he hadn’t noticed it before?

‘That’s our back-up plan.’ said Thomas crisply.

Mats boggled at him. ‘Wait, I thought that was supposed to be our secret plan.’ He gaped at him in wide-eyed astonishment, ‘And you divulged it like that?’

‘I said back-up plan, not secret plan.’ Thomas argued for himself. But his voice was obscured by a shrilly loud laughter.

‘Rune Dictionary? Really? You are going to use this against me?’ Robert guffawed so hard that he was soon short of breath. ‘Seriously, this is the stupidest back-up plan I’ve ever heard.’

‘Hey! Don’t you dare call that stupid!’ Mats huffed, the veins bulging and throbbing dangerously under his skin in a shaft of indignation, ‘This book has 1016 pages! Don’t you know how much knowledge it contains?’ Knowledge!’ he reiterated, throwing a dirty look at Robert, whose face was distorted by a helpless silent laugh, ‘You better pay some respect to them!’

‘What if I say no?’ challenged Robert, staring defiantly at him.

Mats produced his wand out of nowhere, ‘Then we sort it out in a wizard’s fashion.’

‘Agreed. Manuel, remember to pack away my cards.’

Shaking his head after a resigned sigh, nonetheless, Manuel did as he was told and collected all the cards lying scattered at his feet.

The room was once again reigned by darkness as the moon continued to skid further into the west of the sky. Staring into pitch-black, Manuel gave vent to a heavy yawn when an onrush of drowsiness swept over him. Even the awful din at the other end of the room couldn’t wake him up for a tiniest bit. _Nothing could spoil a sweet, dreamless sleep,_ he thought, folding his arms and huddled under his robe, feeling his back touched the wooden floor. _Nothing. Not even a lullaby from You-Know-Who–_

‘What if they can’t battle it out today? What then? Is there going to be a new episode next week?’

Thomas’ enthusiastic voice intruded on his mind. For a split second the sleepiness was washed off him. Manuel sat bolt upright, wide awake but in the next few seconds all he did was blinking vacantly at him.

‘New episode?’ parroted him, the voice rather mechanical. He felt himself like a helpless student who was always slow on the uptake.

‘Oh, I’m waking you up, am I?’ Thomas’ face took on dawning comprehension, which soon gave way to an apologetic smile, ‘Sorry about that.’

‘No need for that. I’m just… um, musing.’ Manuel hastened to say, covering his mouth to repress a heavy yawn.

‘Then I better leave you in peace.’ said Thomas with a mischievous grin.

 _He says peace._ But peace was not what he had in mind. Not since he had accepted that sweet offer. _Well, you gotta pay for what you took. That’s the rule, right?_

Manuel rubbed his eyes and, bumping into his sight was a grisly tangle of two contorted shadows, suddenly materializing from the dark, still hot on fray. Clearly their minds also had no room for such luxury as peace. Giving out a resigned sigh, Manuel tilted his head to Thomas, ‘It’s stupid, is it? Not your back-up plan.’ Manuel added promptly, when he noticed that at his question Thomas glanced down at the chunky dictionary sitting on his laps, ‘I mean, the wizard’s duel. Absolutely meaningless, isn’t it?’

‘Meaningless?’ Thomas grimaced in bemusement, ‘How come? I’ve got a Mad-eye. And Mats has got what he wanted. At least there’s something to remember for. Something truly intriguing.’

The answer came as a revelation, cause from what Manuel could tell, a wizard’s duel was always meaningless, and time-wasting, mostly not with a bang but a whimper, especially for those who took the job as the second – looking on for hours until the eyelids became heavy as lead and at last falling to the hard ground into a trance, until mom called them back for dinner, whose voice, compared to those meaningless shouts throughout the duel, was the real bang. But this Slytherin boy, sitting there and regarding with utmost passionate curiosity while whistling briskly to himself, just brought up a new possibility by telling him that the wizard’s duel could be intriguing.

_Or he makes it intriguing? Using his many an intriguing whims to colorize the duel and make it as entertaining as dull and uneventful as it used to be in all senses._

Manuel could mull it over for hours. But he wasn’t given the time to do so, as an ear-splitting roar drove all his thoughts out of his mind at the precise moment – the duelers were calling for their seconds’ help.

 _Finally. For once there’s someone remembering that he brought a second along with him,_ grumbled Manuel inwardly, as he struggled to spring to his feet while groped around the deep of the pocket for his cedar wand. He thought he was quick enough, but Thomas was two steps ahead of him. He sprinted forward like a spring, letting loose after it was ground to the bottom, fast and resolute, and with the Rune Dictionary at the ready, came to his friend’s assist.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. All Manuel could see was the afterimage of that fat book when Thomas swept his arms with all his might and in the ensuing second came a dull thud drowned by a cry of pain from the deep of Robert’s throat, as the book went slap into his face when he was off guard and knocked him flat.

‘Wow, that’s brilliant.’ Mats stood rooted to the spot with a gaping mouth and bulging eyes brimming with amazement as he gazed down at his vanquished opponent.

‘See? Just as I said, knowledge could kill.’ said Thomas, a faint trace of smirk crossing his face.

‘Definitely.’ Mats agreed, deftly catching the Rune Dictionary which Thomas just hurled at him, ‘Alright, now we are good to go. But before that–’ he screeched to a halt and swiveled around as something suddenly flashed through his mind, ‘Lewandowski!’ he called from the doorway, where a pair of brightly-lit torch was fixed to the doorframe and aligned with each other. The flashing fiery light picked out the content smile on his face as he exclaimed, ‘Slytherin one, Gryffindor zero! Remember to carve it on your headboard!’

‘In your dreams.’ Robert hissed.

Snorting a laugh, Mats strutted off, with Thomas closely on his heels. The lanky boy however, didn’t rush to waltz out of the trophy room but slowed his pace and lurked behind the door, poking his head out to look around. Assuring himself that the coast was clear, he stepped forward, treading gingerly and was only a step away from the threshold when a hushed whisper stopped him.

‘Wait.’ said Manuel under his breath.

Curiosity inflamed, Thomas turned around and found himself confronted with this golden-haired Gryffindor boy, of whom he sat abreast for the past two hours. It struck him as a surprise that this boy was actually quite tall. Mountainous, in all honesty. Being huge in stature, all he had to do was just standing there if he ever wanted to deter someone from disobeying his order. Not to mention that wand standing proudly in his hand.

So Thomas did as he was told. He waited, while he listened.

‘You can’t just walk out like that. This duel is not over yet–’ said Manuel in an irresolute voice. He didn’t know why it preposterously sounded like he was imploring when what he actually meant was the other way round. ‘–because I, the second of Robert Lewandowski, also a Gryffindor, is still standing. As his second, I hereby challenge you. You’ve got to beat me down before you are free to leave.’

Thomas studied him thoughtfully, ‘But why do I have to do all this?’

At his question Manuel blinked blankly, taken aback, ‘It’s… it’s the rule.’ He stammered, ‘As the second we’ve got to take their place when the need is–’

‘But you said we were only here to witness the duel.’ He interrupted, angled his head in an inquisitive manner.

‘That’s not–’

‘And you agreed when I said this whole thing was like we were invited to the set of a Western. As guests, or witnesses, whatever you prefer to call, we ought to behave ourselves, not wreak havoc in their place, am I right?’

Manuel scratched his chin contemplatively as he chewed on his words. He couldn’t deny that he did have a point.

‘Maybe you are right…’ He murmured, ‘But what in the name of Merlin is this _Western_? Is that the Muggle word for somewhere like Diagon Alley?’

‘You have great imagination, but tragically it’s not accurate–’ said Thomas briskly, ‘It’s actually a genre of movies depicting the lives of those who lived in Western United States. There are duels in these movies, with pistols though–’

He stopped at a muffled snarl in the back of the room and all of a sudden appeared to be highly-alerted. Manuel looked over his shoulder to see Robert finally stagger to his feet and wobble limply this way, his left hand covering his nose. Even so, he managed to make himself heard, although his voice thick and incoherent.

‘Clearly someone didn’t want you to find out more about Western.’ Thomas laughed, ‘Well, I guess you can only discover for yourself.’

Hardly had his voice faded before he chunked something at him, which, Manuel recognizing at first sight, was a tiny gilded ball. So deeply fascinated and curious was him that he took no heed of what Thomas was doing, as he quietly mouthed at him. The ball described a smooth arc in the air, reminding him of the fluttering Golden Snitch which he had seen for umpteenth times in Quidditch matches.

‘Ferrero Roche.’ The name escaped his lips before that ball found him. On seeing the ball land on his palm with a solid twang, pleased with himself, Thomas turned on his heels and ready to make for the doorway.

‘Wait! Come back you sneaky Slytherin!’ shrilled Robert at his back. However this time he chose to ignore it, strode over the threshold with light but resolute footsteps and disappeared like a flash. Yet his crisp laughter was still echoing, which only fueled Robert’s rage.

‘Come back here you scallywag! Or I’ll make you–’

He lunged forward like a prepared predator ambushing its prey. But things didn’t go as he expected. He stumbled, and so did Manuel, who labored under the illusion that an invisible hand was pulling him. So sharp and unexpected was it that Manuel lost his footing and flopped down violently with a solid thump. However, what struck him as astonishment was that it didn’t actually hurt, cause something soft held him, something like a cushion.

Manuel sat rigidly and perplexed for a while until it came to him that he should at least check what it was that held him. But once he glanced down, he was even more perplexed.

‘Wait, why are you under me?’ mumbled Manuel, gaping at Robert, who was lying prostrate and staring back over his shoulder at him with an impatient look.

‘How should I know? I just wanted to go after that scamp and all of a sudden you appeared out of nowhere and crushed me to the ground. What? You feared that I might hurt your newly-acquainted Slytherin bud?’ Robert shrieked hysterically, ‘Twice I was almost killed tonight, but what pained me most was that my roommate was among the murderers. Truthfully speaking, my feelings are fatally hurt.’

Manuel scratched his hair awkwardly, ‘I don’t know why I tripped but it just happened so…’ he stopped, looking elsewhere to avoid Robert’s eyes blazing with fury. A chilling draught carrying a fit of ominous whispering giggles caught his attention and glancing up, he found that the door was left ajar. ‘I say we better leave.’ breathed Manuel, vigilantly staring out, ‘If we don’t want to get caught… I think I just heard Peeves out there…’

He attempted to rise to his feet, but ended up flopping back and colliding with Robert’s back with a heavy thud when that invisible hand again gave his feet a violent tug.

‘Update: three times actually.’ Robert groaned, ‘You know what? If I were killed, I would definitely tell McGonagall you were the chief offender.’

Manuel ignored him, as his eyes roved around and at last found what he was looking for, ‘Hey, look at that!’ he pointed at a neat knot woven from laces of different colors, ‘He tied our shoelaces together. Fabulous.’

‘I’m really glad to know that.’ said Robert, his voice thick with sarcasm, ‘Now could you gently please move your butt off me? I have to fill my lung with air.’

Giving vent to a resigned sigh, Manuel took out his wand and undid the knot with a simple flick to release them both.

The way back was quiet and uneventful, except that they had a little trouble persuading Fat Lady into allowing them to get back inside. It took them a hell of a job to badger her into doing so and by the time they sneaked back into their dormitory, there was already a dim rosy line looming up the horizon.

Although deprived of sleep, neither of them had an inclination to crawl back under the covers, as Robert was still hot on whining about his Slytherin enemies while Manuel just reclined motionlessly next to the open hearth, staring broodingly at the brick dome, his head dripping with thoughts which he believed were all exceedingly preposterous.

‘…I was so close to taking him down…’ He heard Robert snap in a lapse of concentration when he momentarily liberated himself from relentless thinking. _Yeah… so close,_ Manuel echoed inwardly, bringing out that exquisitely-wrapped chocolate ball and playing tossing-and-catching with it, as though what he was holding was a real Golden-Snitch and he was actually training so that he could stand out in the tryout for substitute seeker of Gryffindor Quidditch team. He couldn’t help thinking how close they were all this time throughout the duel that even that Slytherin boy had long since departed, somehow he felt that the smell of his hair was still wafting around him. So close that he could feel it rubbing his nose, and that he could imagine him giggling when he instinctively recoiled from that itchy touch.

‘Not all Slytherin is that nasty, isn’t it?’ blurted Manuel, not realizing what he was saying until he found Robert’s deathly glare hit him in the bullseye.

‘Slytherins are all nasty. Period.’ said Robert slowly in a huff.

‘Oh, I forgot. Now Thomas was also added to the list, right?’

‘That sly almost killed me with a Rune Dictionary!’ yelled Robert in hysterical shriek.

‘That’s an overstatement. And from what I can see you look great, definitely not like someone who already has one foot in grave. Everything’s fine, as it should be, except for that… um, Rune mark on your face.’ Manuel allowed himself a thin smile, ‘Anyway it’s kinda cool actually, especially when you look from the right side…’

‘What? That’s not even remotely cool.’ In his indignation Robert hurled himself down on bed, inhaling a deep breath, in an attempt to chill himself out but once his eyes fell on Manuel, who had blazing hearth fire warming his body as he lied still on the bare marbled floor, he couldn’t suppress an onrush of annoyance and burst out like an eruptive volcano, ‘I still can’t believe it. I always thought you were the smarter one among the two of us, and now the smarter one just fall right into a trick that even the not-so-smart one could see through. Audience, witnesses–’ he snorted, ‘look what he did. He smashed a Rune Dictionary on my face! What a well-mannered spectator he is, isn’t he?’

‘Well, maybe it doesn’t apply to everyone–’

Robert interjected, shedding the sarcasm for sheer astonishment, ‘Okay, so now you are defending him?’

‘It’s not defending. Just an act of – fine, whatever.’ Weary of unrelenting squabbles, Manuel threw both of his arms in the air as a sign of surrender before he hauled himself upright and dragged himself all the way to the bed in shuffling paces, leaving a curt ‘goodnight’ and drawing the curtains. Serenity finally found its peace here, perching quietly on the hearth for the rest of this long night.

As he lay staring at the maroon canopy, somehow that odd feeling, which had haunted him while the four of them sat quietly unwrapping the chocolate frogs, inexplicably came back plaguing him. However this time, lying and musing in solitude, he managed to get it cracked and realized that after siting abreast of Thomas for two hours he was so used to him blabbering and bothering him every 30 seconds that it felt exceptionally peculiar to be left unbothered. He hated to admit it, but he really missed having a blabbermouth around. The one with glistening green eyes that perfectly matched the colors of Slytherin, who was also as crafty and mischievous as Slytherin himself. _Not exactly a bad thing, is it?_

He knew Godric surely didn’t hold with his thoughts. And the reasons were pretty simple – Gryffindor and Slytherin, they were supposed to fight and loathe each other till they breathed their last breath. That was like the doctrine of these two houses. Or put it in a nutshell, the rule. But as far as Manuel knew, the Gryffindors were always valiant and, to some extent, stupid enough to challenge the rules. And it just so happened that Manuel was a Gryffindor, plain and simple.

Defying Godric, Manuel took out that elaborately-wrapped chocolate ball, peeling off the wrapping paper and putting it in his mouth, relishing the sweetness in a way as intoxicated as he was when he pictured those clear green eyes, where mirthful glitters burnt ablaze, beaming radiantly at him.

_Well, maybe green was indeed captivating in some ways._

**Author's Note:**

> It's for light-reading but ended up somewhere around 10k cause everyone knows I'm an even worse blabbermouth than Thomas


End file.
